


The Flight of Spades

by PitFTW



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cardverse, M/M, Pottertalia, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitFTW/pseuds/PitFTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enter the world of witchcraft and wizardry, of fabulous spells and high-flying broomsticks. Where Kings and Queens rule each House and Jacks represent. Follow the seven year journey of Alfred F. Jones, Quidditch player extraordinaire and once and future King of Spades. But of course, what is a King to the gods without his Queen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flight of Spades

**Author's Note:**

> Secret Santa fic written for magikatfish. The prompts used here are a combination of Cardverse and Pottertalia. Happy Holidays, everyone!!

They called the place the World Academy of Magic and Sorcery, whispered to be the foremost school of witches and wizards in the world. It was said that this legendary school, with its soaring ceilings and dark halls, stood even above Hogwarts in terms of prestige and might. This school only housed a single witch or wizard from any country in the world at any given time, and even then, it was if and only if that country could produce a witch or wizard whose skill was more than beyond those who would one day be among the millions of students who would one day walk through the halls of Hogwarts. To receive an acceptance letter from the World Academy of Magic and Sorcery was to receive destiny itself; its students, few in number though they were, were destined to become legends, the sort of great wizarding heroes whose songs would be echoed all throughout the world for eternity. 

Although the school would never admit it, its housing system was one that was based in a very, very similar manner to Hogwarts: four houses, each of them representing a set of traits that those sorted into the houses valued above all. There was House Spades, filled with those who valued strength above all. Flying the colors blue and silver, House Spades was represented by an intricate pocket watch, rumored to be forever ticking down until the next time House Spades would produce a wizard or witch so talented that the stars themselves would be moved. It was rumored that, unique to the other houses, the students of House Spades learned in their seventh year how to manipulate time itself.

House Diamonds was a house of wealth, filled for the most part with witches and wizards who came from ancient families, whose fabulous wealth was found only in the deepest of underground vaults, guarded by beasts so ancient even the mighty dragons quaked in fear. Diamonds was represented by the colors gold and orange, their symbol a mighty chalice that would fill itself to the brim of whatever liquid it was called upon to hold. Unique to the other houses, students of House Diamonds learned how to forge and shape fabulous treasures from any gem or metal, the sort of great magical artifacts that made even the most narcissistic of goblins weep.

In the shadows lay House Clubs, a house of students who relied on chance and destiny to win their battles. Green and chrome were their colors, their symbol a mighty staff that was said to bring good luck to any who held it. Seventh year students in House Clubs would learn how to seize destiny itself and manipulate it to their will, turning whole nations against each other and changing the tide of war. 

Last, but not least of the houses was House Hearts, whose students played homage to passion above all. Their symbol was a banner, flying the house colors of red and bronze. It was said that this banner held the same power that those in House Hearts would one day learn to wield in their Seventh Year: the ability to rally hearts and minds together as one. Those who came from House Hearts were destined to become leaders, just as those from House Spades were destined to become warriors. 

These four houses worked in tandem each and every year, forging rivalries and relationships that would last for life. At the World Academy, there were never more than a hundred students at once; as such, it was little wonder that when it was time for each student to exit the Great Hall for the last time, they would bring a family with them into the Wizarding World. Within each house was a kingdom, and within each kingdom, a family; that was the true value of being a student at World Academy.

His name was Alfred F. Jones, the F standing for freedom. He was the first ever student at World Academy to come from the United States of America. He came into this world to become a hero, and World Academy had sworn to help guide them there. But at this moment, being a hero was the furthest thing from Alfred’s mind.

“Alfred, we’ll get in trouble!” the whisper was soft, yet harsh, tinged with the slightest of English accents. 

Alfred grinned as he looked over his shoulder at the boy behind him, blue eyes twinkling merrily. Arthur Kirkland, fellow First Year and member of House Spades, scowled back at him, though his green eyes remained wide and alert. Students were not allowed out of bed during quiet hours, and of course, punishment awaited those who were caught. Arthur, goody-two-shoes that he was, had tried everything he could to urge Alfred back to bed, but there was no taming the wild American’s spirit; in fact, it ended with him dragging Arthur out of bed and into the World Academy halls, laughing despite the other boy’s protests. 

“Artie, if you keep talking like that, then we’ll definitely get in trouble!” Alfred whispered back, his voice just barely loud enough to echo around the hall. He stopped himself, giggling as his voice faded, only to turn around and be met with a very, very huffy Arthur, who only continued to scowl at him, large eyebrows knitted together as he continued to look over his shoulder, as though expecting the World Academy Caretaker, Matthew Williams, to pop out of nowhere, as seemed to be his greatest ability. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. We’re just gonna pop in, then pop out, okay?”

The eleven-year-old - twelve in three months, as Arthur loved to remind him - grumbled a little, but said nothing as he continued to follow his American friend, footsteps hesitant as they echoed gently across the marble floors. The two had met on the World Academy Express and immediately hit it off, despite the fact that the loud, brash, talkative American was everything that Arthur despised in a person. Despite this, however, he was Arthur’s first, and thus far, closest, friend at World Academy. And as Alfred’s first and closest friend as well, he had to make sure the boy stayed out of trouble.

Alfred kept walking for a few more minutes, tongue sticking out from between his lips as he scanned the hallway in front of him. There were doors, numerous doors, all around them, but the American was only looking for one. It was a very, very special door, the sort that very few people at World Academy had the keys to. But Alfred had heard from Francis, a member of House Diamonds, that this room held something truly forbidden to first years, and naturally, he had to see for himself. 

He soon found himself stopping in front of one particular door, with a large gash down the middle from when one of the poltergeist Jokers, Gilbert, got a little too drunk and too happy with a sword. It was said that Professor Germania himself had to clean up the mess, all while Headmaster Romulus sat back and laughed. If he remembered correctly, this was where Francis had supposedly seen that which should be forbidden to First Years, which meant that he needed to open it and see right away. Arthur caught up to him, panting lightly from having to keep up with Alfred’s quick pace, just as he was jiggling the doorknob.

“Don’t just do that, you fool,” Arthur huffed as he pulled out his wand, smacking Alfred’s hand away. 

Alfred shot his friend a glare, then stuck out his tongue. “How else am I gonna open a door, dummy?”

Arthur only rolled his eyes before turning to the doorknob and crisply tapping it with his wand. _“Alohomora.”_

A click sounded from the other side of the door, signaling that it was safe to open. Alfred raised an eyebrow, looking first from the door to the other boy, a silent question passing between them. Arthur, for his part, managed to avert his eyes as he crossed his arm, wand still held loosely in his hand.

“We’ve already gone this far… and I’ll not have you hurting yourself trying to open the door like some idiot Muggle.” 

Alfred grinned at his words, then turned to examine the door knob. It was a rather average looking thing, polished until it shone, but otherwise unremarkable. What could possibly be hiding behind a door with such a boring knob and such a random gash? Well, the only way to find out, of course, was to open it right up.

Everything fell into place as soon as the door opened, quite literally. From behind the door came tumbling out a great number of objects, long wooden handles hitting the hard ground with a resounding _clunk!_ Alfred’s eyes widened, hands shaking in awe as he knelt down and picked one up, Arthur’s presence all but forgotten as he examined the long wooden handle in his hands, turning it this way and that until gleaming letters appeared on its side.

_Firebolt._

“Broomsticks,” Arthur whispered, snapping Alfred from his trance. His friend had picked one up as well, a Nimbus 2000, and was examining it from end to end. His green eyes were wide as well, his face lit up so much that he practically glowed in the dark hall. For a brief moment, Alfred forgot about the Fireboat he held in his hand; there was something much prettier to look at besides.

“Let’s fly,” Alfred said, gripping the broomstick as Arthur’s head snapped up, his features once again set in a hard frown. “C’mon, they’re right here and ready for us! Let’s take them out for a spin!” 

“Are you mad?” Arthur barked, shooting a look over his shoulder. “First Years aren’t allowed to have broomsticks! We could get killed if we don’t fly these properly, or worse…” he swallowed. “ _Expelled_.” 

Alfred snorted, reaching out to grab Arthur’s arm and dragging him towards the window. There was only the tiniest sliver of crescent moon tonight, just barely enough to illuminate the halls of the castle, but not nearly enough to see clearly by. All in all, it was the perfect night for two First Years to fly about on broomsticks and not get caught.

“You’re too paranoid, Artie,” Alfred said, shaking his head as he threw the Fireboat to the ground. Much to his delight, it never it the ground; rather, it hovered only a foot or two above it, as though waiting for the young man to mount it and fly away. “Loosen up a little bit, dude! It’ll be fun.” without waiting for an answer, Alfred walked up to the broom and carefully sat on it, yelping a little bit in surprise as the broom refused to give. Now Alfred was sitting upon it as it hovered above the ground, the broomstick as much of an extension of his lower body as his own two legs. It was a deep, wondrous feeling, the sort only found when one climbed a tree so high that they could not see the ground again. 

Just how high did these broomsticks soar, anyways? 

Once again, Arthur grumbled, but nonetheless, followed suit. The Nimbus 2000 hovered happily in the air as Arthur mounted it, crying out a little when it began to wobble as he took both feet off the ground. But soon enough, he had steadied it, and, much to Alfred’s delight, seemed to adapt to it rather well. Alfred let a large grin break out on his face, one that refused to fade even as Arthur shot him a heavy glare. 

“I am only doing this so you don’t run into a wall or something and get yourself killed because you picked a bad broom,” Arthur announced, allowing his broomstick to inch a little bit forward so that he and Alfred were a little closer together. “Now let’s just get this… this ‘spin’ over with so I can get back to bed. Unlike some people here, I want to do _well_ in this school.” 

At that, Alfred only grinned some more. Without another word, he turned towards the open window and inhaled deeply, tasting the crisp night air. From his position at the moment, he could just barely see the moon and the stars, all of them twinkling dimly at the castle, as though they too had gone to sleep. But soon enough, Alfred would be among them, and, they would awaken again.

He leaned forward on his broom, gleefully driving it forward and up as he soared towards the window, the marbled floors of World Academy disappearing beneath him. Behind him, Arthur did the same, green eyes determined and narrowed in concentration. This was the most vital part of their journey; if they missed the window, if they ran into the wall, it would be all over for the both of them. 

Alfred had no intention of missing.

Before he knew it, the rush of night air met him, and then the soaring ceilings of World Academy castle were instead replaced by an endless whorl of stars and sky. He cried out, realizing what had just happened, then laughed, eagerly spinning around in the air as he glided, dipped, looped, and soared. Yes, this was what the First Years were not allowed to do; this was what it was like to fly.

Arthur caught up with him soon enough, golden locks wind-whipped, green eyes bright and eager. He clutched onto the Nimbus 2000 like a lifeline, but nonetheless happy followed Alfred wherever he went. Together, they soared all around the castle, circled the tallest tower, dived under the numerous bridges that dotted the skyline, and skimmed the dark waters of the Great Lake. They chased each other over the treetops of the Dark Woods and flipped their way past numerous owls, fear and tears mingling with laughter and whoops of joy. As they passed over the very center of the Dark Woods, a phoenix - tail flaming, wings glimmering gold - spiraled its way up from the heart of the woods and joined them, disappearing back into the gloom of the wood as they passed the moon, then passed it again.

Alfred’s blood was singing, wind rushing through his veins. Never before had he ever felt so very close to the stars, to the sky. Here he was, soaring like an eagle, freer than he had ever been, and all of this - he realized this as he looked to the side, where his companion stayed - he was sharing with the one person who mattered to him the most at World Academy.

If Arthur was glowing before, he was absolutely illuminated now, stunning in every way imaginable. His face, normally so set in hard lines and deep scowls, was wide-open and smooth, his mouth curled back into a smile much softer and more exhilarated than anything else. But most beautiful of all were his eyes, eyes that rivaled the moon and the stars around them, twin emeralds that gleamed brighter than anything else in this sea of diamonds and gold. 

“Having fun there?” Alfred asked, voice breathless, words almost lost to the wind.

At that, Arthur simply smiled.

* * *

Twelve-year-old Alfred frowned as he adjusted his arm guards for the umpteenth time, silently cursing his father for insisting on this size, insisting that he would eventually grow into them. He couldn’t be the best player at the tryouts if these things were too big for him, dammit! Next to him, Arthur remained quiet, seemingly calm and collected as ever, though the grip he had on his Nimbus 2000 - the same Nimbus 2000 he had stolen from the broom closet and flown upon not too long ago - told Alfred that his best friend was just as nervous as he was. After all, it was rare for anyone as young as they to make the team; the youngest to ever make it was a young girl named Xiao Mei, who at age 11 demonstrated that she would be one of the greatest Quidditch player in history. Even now, she served as captain of the foremost Quidditch team in Taiwan, and had twice led her team to victory in the World Cup.

“Relax,” Alfred whispered, giving Arthur a small smile as he walked over and clapped his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “Your brother’s the King of Spades, dude. You’re pretty much guaranteed to get on!”

Each house had three “rankings” of sorts: King, Queen, and Jack. The Kings were the Quidditch Captains, the faces of victory and glory. The Queens served as Prefects, symbols of law keeping and discipline. The Jacks, hard-working and talented as they were, were the members of each house that fully embodied the house’s valued traits, serving as the very foundation on which each house was built. These rankings were highly prized and sought after among the students at World Academy, but only a select few ever received them. How these people were chosen was a jealously guarded secret, and it was never truly obvious who would get them; there were many times in the past where a King would be named who had never before so much as touched a broomstick, or a Queen who never upheld the rules of the school, or even a Jack who seemed to embody the _opposite_ of everything the house stood for. 

Regardless of how the rankings were chosen, however, they often bore fruit. Arthur’s eldest half-brother, Alistair, born in Scotland and thus allowed to attend World Academy at the same time as English-born Arthur, was the current King of Spades, and he had led the Spades team to victory, even after the far too many great losses they had seen with the King of Spades before him, though he had only very recently learned how to fly on a broomstick. House Hearts second-year Ludwig Beilschmidt’s ancestor, Gilbert, who now haunted the halls of World Academy as a Joker poltergeist, had in his time been the Queen of Hearts, and many examples of his great disciplinary methods were still used today in detentions. Christophe, Luxembourg-born sixth-year and current Jack of Diamonds, was a well-known philanthropist, who had an entire wing of Saint Mungo’s named after him. And even going further back than Gilbert, there was a former Jack of Clubs, named Davie, who had taken his destiny in hand and travelled the world, helping long-living and immortal creatures realize that, just because they lived so much longer than humans, there was no need for them to destroy or avoid them completely.

“All Chaser hopefuls step forward!” Alistair barked, striding forward in his blue and silver robes and - Alfred noted with some resentment - well-fitted armguards. “There are seventeen of ye, but only one position open.” the red-head’s green eyes, so much darker and more wild than Arthur’s, swept over the gathered crowd, coming to rest very briefly on his younger half-brother’s face. “Which means I’ll be watchin’ every single one of you like a hawk. One little slip and it’s off the field with ya!” 

And thus the trials began, with Beater Matthias Densen serving as temporary Keeper (one of the other positions open) and the two remaining Chasers, Andersen and Lien, serving as the opposing team. Arthur and the sixteen other hopefuls were charged with trying to get the quaffel past Matthias and into the goal, all while avoiding the two Chasers and bludger-sized balls hit by Alistair. Anyone hit by one of these terrible projectiles was forced to land and give up the quaffle - and more than one hopeful left the field in either anger or tears when Alistair shouted that they were not fit for the team.

One by one, each hopeful was forced to leave, until there were only a few left, Arthur among them. Alfred watched, all complaints of his armguards forgotten, as Arthur moved in the air, brow knitted in concentration as he expertly weaved through the opposing team, nimbly dodging the faux bludgers hit at him. He was a team player as well, quickly passing the quaffle between his teammates and accepting it when needed to. As they neared Matthias, however, one teammate in particular suddenly shot forward, obviously intent on scoring on the Dane by himself. Seeing this, Alistair grinned wolfishly and whacked one of the fake bludgers at him, ready to take them down.

Then, something strange happened. A blur of blue and silver appeared in front of the quaffle-carrying teammate, right in the path of the bludger. Alfred barely caught a glimpse of gold-spun hair and fierce green eyes before the bludger connected, right into his stomach. A small scream ripped from Alfred’s throat as Arthur gasped and spun down to earth, landing easily on his feet. At that same moment, the teammate who had shot forward scored, a whoop of joy sounding through the air, but all Alfred had ears and eyes for at that moment was Arthur. Without another thought, he ran forward as Arthur looked up at him, expression weary, smile sad.

“Arthur, are you okay?” Alfred asked, grabbing onto the other boy as soon as he could, holding him at arm’s length. He heard a few snickers behind him as he did so, but he ignored them for the sake of Arthur. “Did you break any bones? Are you bruised? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?”

Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes, swatting Alfred’s hands from his shoulders. “Of course I’m fine, you silly. That wasn’t an _actual_ bludger being hit at me, and I’m only a little winded is all.” he scowled at Alistair as the elder half-brother landed and walked towards him. “Of course, I could have easily done with a little less… oomph behind that hit. Bloody arm of his could’ve taken out my spleen if he really tried.” 

Alfred smiled in spite of himself; if Arthur was complaining like this, that meant that everything was okay. “Well… okay. At least you’re okay.” he coughed, then grinned up at Arthur, who still looked worn for wear. “You were _amazing_ out there, Artie.” 

Arthur grimaced. “Not amazing enough, it seems. I didn’t make the team, after all.”

“Now who said that?” Alistair asked as he finally reached them, crossing his arms as he looked between the two. “If it wasn’t me that said that, then it’s wrong, because I’m the only cap’n around here.” he paused to fix the two with one of his famous roguish grins. “Now, you did yer family proud out there, lad. I’ve never seen such teamwork from anyone else.” Alistair held out his hand for Arthur to shake, looking very, very pleased. “Welcome to the team, little brother. Try not to get too squished out there, okay?” 

“What?” Arthur blinked, his expression positively - and rather adorably - owlish as he stared at his elder half-brother. “I’m on the team? But… I got _hit_.” 

“You got hit because you were taking one for the team,” Lien said as she walked over, tilting her head towards Arthur with a small smile on her face. “And if there is one thing that we on the Spades Quidditch Team value, it’s knowing that true courage and strength is making sure that we’re willing to put everything on the line so we can be the best team in this school.” 

“See? What’d I tell ya?” Alfred asked, laughing as he clapped Arthur on the shoulder, then pulled the other boy in to give him a deep hug. “I told you that you’d make it! There’s no way anyone can beat you on a broom!” 

“Well, we’ll have to see about that, wouldn’t we, lad?” Alistair asked, shooting Alfred a small wink. “Because now Arthur here is going to be one of the three Chasers that’s gonna be testing out our Keeper hopefuls.” he gestured to the remaining Quidditch team hopefuls, eight of them in all. “I hope yer ready, lad. Just because yer my little bro’s best friend, doesn’t mean I’m goin’ easy on ye.”

Alfred gulped.  

* * *

Thirteen-year-old Alfred’s bubble gum was beginning to lose flavor. Perhaps this is what he deserved for going for the cheap Muggle gum instead of the slightly more expensive magical one that Honeydukes was stocking. Then again, this stuff reminded him of home, and honestly, what kind of experience would it be if the gum never lost flavor? Oh well, at least he could still blow bubbles with this stuff.

Speaking of bubbles, Alfred happily blew and popped another one, quickly bringing the gum back into his mouth and beginning to chew again. King Lien would likely give him an earful about this later, but for now, the Vietnamese Chaser was obviously much more concentrated on the match before her. And what a match it was; Spades versus Diamonds, power versus wealth, it was one practically made in Heaven.

That being said, of course, Diamonds seemed to be having a rather off season this year. The three Chasers seemed more content with examining their hair than anything else, and the Beaters had bedazzled their bats to the point where it served the team better to blind their opponents than to actually hit bludgers with them (which they weren’t doing). Even King Heracles (ironically, one of the poorer kids in World Academy, but a master of cooking up sleeping draughts and spells) seemed more content with taking a nap on the field than anything else. All in all, this made for a rather dull match, and it was only through Antonio’s rather hilarious commentary that anyone was into it at all. 

“So with Spades having an eighty point lead, is there really a point to catching the Snitch?” Antonio asked pleasantly, the Hearts fourth-year having just finished a long monologue about why tomatoes were the best kind of fruit. “I think they have made it too fast, anyways. They need to slow it down… and paint it red! Like a tomato!” 

“God, will that man never shut up about those things?” a voice to Alfred’s side grumbled.

Alfred grinned as he looked over to his best friend, popping yet another bubble. “Nope! Haven’t you heard, dude? He’s been doin’ nothing lately but runnin’ around after Lovino and calling him ‘his little tomate’ or whatever.” 

Arthur sighed and shook his head, crossing his legs rather primly as he continued to observe the match. Lien was having an argument with Yao, the third-year Seeker, about whether or not they had seen the Snitch or someone’s gold watch, and the beaters were trading batting tips. All in all, everyone in the stands and on the field were simply waiting for _someone_ to catch the Snitch, whether it was Yao or Klaus (a young boy from Kugelmugel, who was too busy painting a mural on the field anyways), and end the game.

“So, got any plans for Christmas?” Alfred asked, yawning and stretching, balancing himself just right so he wouldn’t fall off his broom.

Arthur shrugged as he adjusted his gloves, sighing a little when he saw Yao flying off to who knows where. “The usual, I suppose… heading back home to spend Christmas with my parents and brothers. Peter is going to want to know even more about Gilbert, that little minx. I’m willing to bet that if he somewhere _does_ get accepted here, he will attempt to have Gilbert as his Head of House.”

“You gotta be easier on the little guy, though,” Alfred said, shooting Arthur a small grin. “He really looks up to you. Both you and Alistair.”

The eldest Kirkland had graduated last year and was now working as a dragon wrangler, using his skills in both Quidditch and commanding to keep the beasts under control. From what Alfred understood, he was well on his way to being the foremost dragon wrangler in the Scottish countryside, and sooner or later, the world. Of course, dragon wrangling was something that neither Alfred nor Arthur would ever consider; that was a little too much excitement for them. 

Arthur smiled at that, a rather gentle one that just barely touched his eyes. “Aye… I would be lying if I did not agree with you. I can only hope that I serve as a good enough example for him… and that he does not aim too high. It is nearly impossible to enter this school, after all.” 

“I’m sure that whatever happens, you’ll be the best big brother ever to him,” Alfred said, drifting a little closer. “‘sides, this place is all pomp and fancy circumstance anyways. It ain’t like not coming here is the end of the world. Plenty of successful people go to Hogwarts.” 

Once again, Arthur smiled. “Of course… You’re right. My little brother doesn’t need a degree from this school to prove he is the best. He’s a Kirkland. We’re already the best there are.” 

“Not as good as the Jones’, though,” Alfred remarked with a small wink.

Arthur laughed lightly, then paused, turning an inquisitive eye on Alfred. “Would you, perhaps, care to visit this Christmas? I know that our celebrations will not be quite up to par with the wild parties you seem to love throwing at home, but-“

Arthur’s ears were turning red all through that, his face going an even redder hue. In its own way, this was awfully cute as well. Unable to help it, Alfred found himself staring, noting that there was some sort of strange… look in Arthur’s green eyes. The kind of look that Alfred only saw when he looked in a mirror and thought of Arthur…

Before Alfred could answer, he was cut off by a deafening roar; Yao had caught the Snitch.  

* * *

“I didn’t expect to find you out here.”

Fourteen-year-old Alfred blinked, then looked over his shoulder. There behind him, swathed in dress robes of bottle green, stood Arthur. In each hand, he held a goblet of what looked suspiciously like butterbeer, and from the gently flushed look on his face, Alfred was willing to bet that he had already had more than one tonight. Of course, butterbeer was nonalcoholic; that didn’t stop anyone from spiking the supply.

“I should be sayin’ the same to you, Art,” Alfred said, smiling a little as Arthur, rather unsteadily, made his way towards Alfred. Whoever had spiked the butterbeer keg probably gave it a good shot or two of firewhiskey. “Don’t you have a date to get back to?”

“Oh, Miss Michelle, you mean?” Arthur asked, pausing as he stopped in front of Alfred. “Lovely girl, really, but…” 

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “But?”

A small smile met him in answer. “But… she wants something of me that I cannot give. Something… more than mere friendship.” 

Alfred remained quiet for a moment, before letting out a laugh, a full one, head thrown back, shoulders heaving. “Artie, friendship with you ain’t ‘mere.’ I dunno who gave you the idea, but…” he looked back at Arthur, taking in that spun-gold hair, those robes, those green eyes that so long ago and for every night thereafter gleamed like emeralds in a sea of diamonds and stars. “You are the _best_ friend a guy can ever ask for. Anyone who makes you happy is lucky to have you.” 

The smile widened there, reaching the other boy’s eyes. He walked forward a little more and offered Alfred one of the butterbeers, clinking their glasses together. The butterbeer was sweet, but the firewhiskey danced across Alfred’s throat like sparks. It sent his head spinning in more ways than one, and for the first time since the Yule Ball began, he realized just how _quickly_ his heart rate could go.

“Fly with me?” Alfred asked as he reached over and picked up his Firebolt. Arthur blinked, frowning as he looked around, confusion written all over his features. After realizing that his Nimbus 2000 was nowhere to be found, he turned to look back at Alfred.

“… There’s only one broomstick.” 

Alfred grinned as he mounted it and patted the space behind him. “Haven’t you heard of sharin’?”

For a brief moment, Arthur paused, and seemed to reconsider his options. Sharing a broomstick was not unheard of; after all, plenty of… of _couples_ did that. But that didn’t mean that he and Arthur were-

Alfred yanked the Briton on the broomstick before either of them knew what happened and took off, refusing to look back. Behind him, Arthur cried out and flailed a little, before wrapping his arms around Alfred’s waist, just to prevent himself from falling. It was a freezing cold night, too cold to be flying out there without a fire or cloak, but here, amongst the stars, with Arthur’s warm body pressed against his back, Alfred didn’t care; this was where he belonged. Here among a sky of diamonds with twin emeralds gleaming at his side.

Behind him, Arthur whispered something, but whatever it was was lost to the wind. Frowning, Alfred looked over his shoulder and asked him to say it again, but by that time, Arthur was gone, too engrossed by the stars all around him to say anything more. All around them, however, the winds seemed to sing, echoing a soft whisper that both of them heard, but likely did not understand.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

* * *

“I told you!” Alfred cheered as he all but leaped upon Arthur, causing the fifteen-year-old to stumble, nearly falling onto the bed behind them. Over the years, Arthur’s bedroom had housed many decorations, from moving pictures of magical creatures to diagrams of charms and wand movements. Nowadays, there were posters of the Sex Pistols and Weird Sisters everywhere, with signed records and t-shirts all over the floor. Arthur, for his part, had dyed the very tips of his hair a brilliant bright blue, which clashed beautifully with the colors of their house.

“Alright, alright, you did! Now sod off me!” Arthur shouted, trying to push him off. Despite his harsh words, he was grinning, its brilliance met only by the silver badge gleaming on his shirt. 

“I totally told you, dude!” Alfred laughed, moving in once again to hug him. Arthur shook his head, but allowed himself to be hugged again, this time causing him to fully tumble onto the bed. “I knew it! Queen of Spades… you deserve it.” 

“Well, I’m not too sure about that,” Arthur said breathlessly, shooting Alfred a light grin. “After all, let’s not forget who drew that _lovely_ caricature of Francis on the Diamonds tower wall.” 

“Yeah, it took them _months_ to get it all down,” Alfred laughed, not moving from his position where he was lying atop Arthur. As long as Arthur didn’t mind, he didn’t mind either; it was comfortable like this. And as long as he didn’t think of what… _other_ implications it meant for him and his best friend, then it wouldn’t bother him, right?

“Even so, I have to admit, there is no humbling me from this,” Arthur said, scanning over the badge on his chest with an admiring eye. “I’m afraid that I’ll be expecting you to kiss my feet from now on, and to bow and grovel and present gifts whenever you wish to speak with me.” 

“I ain’t too sure about the ass kissing,” Alfred said, exhaling a little puff of hair as he pouted up at Arthur. “But I can definitely do somethin’ about _one_ gift, at least.” 

“A gift?” Arthur asked, tone inquisitive, one eyebrow raised. Alfred rolled off his chest and reached down under the bed, where Arthur kept his studded accessories and extra bottles of dye. He had hidden the present below here early in the morning, while Arthur was taking a shower. It had cost him a year’s worth of allowance, plus some just to acquire this gift, but if it made his best friend happy, it was 100% worth it.

“Yeah! You remember how on your birthday, Lukas’ troll ate all your presents?” Alfred asked, sitting up on the bed. 

Arthur scowled at his words. “Of course I remember. I _told_ him to leave the beast at home.” 

“Well, I had a little extra leftover cash and stuff, and I thought that someone as best of a friend as you deserves to have the best gift ever. So here!” he threw the object on a bed: a rather strangely shaped one, with a long handle of some sort and a bit of a flare at the end. 

“A broomstick!” Arthur cried out, eagerly scrambling for it. In revenge for the graffiti, Francis had decided to attempt to use a harmless fire spell to make it seem as though there was a fire following Arthur everywhere he went. Of course, he ended up mixing it up with an _actual_ fire starting spell, and thus, Arthur’s poor Nimbus 2000 had been rendered a pile of ash. Francis had, of course, offered to pay for a new broom (and indeed, he did contribute a teeny bit to this new one, but not too much, because Alfred had wanted to buy it), but Arthur’s pride caused him to refuse. From that day on, he had been forced to ride a Cleansweep 11, a decent broom, but not on the level of the Nimbus 2000.

But now, as Alfred watched Arthur open the package, he couldn’t help but remember that dimly lit night, where two young eleven-year-olds had snuck out of their dorms and risked all they had, just to break into a broom closet and see what lay beyond its door. He remembered how excited the two were, how they had picked up the brooms and examined them from end to end. And of course, he remembered the thrill the two of them received when, while turning their broomsticks in hand, the gentle shimmer of letters, the broomsticks’ names, gleamed in the light of the dying moon.

Arthur cried out and this time, he was the one to tackle Alfred to the bed, laughing and thanking him over and over again. For his part, Alfred laughed and hugged him back, holding him so tightly that he feared that Arthur would break. Not far away, beautiful but forgotten, lay the broomstick: the _Firebolt Supreme._

* * *

“We’re here today and what a glorious day it is! Perfect sun, perfect wind, perfect weather to watch a game of Quidditch! Today’s match is Clubs versus Spades and they’re playing for the Quidditch House Cup!”

The roar of the stadium was loud, even from sixteen-year-old Alfred’s position behind the doors that led in. How could it not be? House Clubs and House Spades had the sort of rivalry that was almost as well known around the world as Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s, and on top of that, this was the match for the _Quidditch House Cup_. 

“And now I present to you, your Clubs Quidditch team! Chasers Toris Laurinaitis, Eduard van Bock, and Raivis Galante! Keeper Natalya Arlovskya! Seeker and Jack of Clubs, Roderich Edelstein! And of course, last but not least, Beaters Queen Elizaveta Hedervary and King Ivan Braginski of Clubs!” 

The roar from Clubs supporters was loud enough to shake the stadium, causing Alfred to grimace a little as he tightened his hold on his broomstick. As much as he liked a friendly competition, he was not one to just up and _accept_ a loss by Ivan’s hand. Oh no, he was going to win this, alright, and he was going to rub it in that Clubs bastard’s face if it was the last thing he did!

“And here comes the Spades Quidditch team!”

The doors in front of his team opened, allowing brilliant light to filter through. Alfred smirked as he took hold of his goggles and pulled them down over his eyes, before turning to the side and sending a grin at Arthur, who brushed some stray locks of hair from his face before nodding at Alfred and putting on his goggles as well. The roar of the stadium crowd was absolutely deafening now, sending Alfred’s blood aflame.

“Chasers Lukas Bondevik, Diogo Fernando, and Queen Arthur of Spades!”

Lukas flew out as soon as his name was called, leaving nothing but a faint blue wisp of smoke behind him. Diogo grinned and gave the team a thumbs-up before letting out a war cry and flying out, much to the cheers of the stadium. Arthur smiled and gave Alfred a single, regal nod before following after the Portuguese man, blue Quidditch robes billowing behind him. Alfred let out a small sigh as he left, hating to see his retreating back.

“Beaters Sadik Adnan and Carlos Machado!” 

As usual, the Cuban was the first to come out, easily shouldering Sadik aside to allow him room to fly out first. Growing, Sadik followed out after him, screaming curses in a strange mixture of Turkish and English. Once they were gone, Alfred turned to the final member of his team, Yao Wang, Jack of Spades, and grinned, earning a small nod in return. This match was theirs.

“Seeker and Jack of Spades, Yao Wang!”

Without a word, Yao flew off, raising his hand to greet the people’s cheers. He was a popular Seeker and Jack of Spades, despite his bad tendencies. Regardless of whether or not Yao ripped you off while tutoring you in magic, you always at least learned _something_ from him.

“And last but not least, Keeper and King of Spades, Alfred F. Jones!” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Alfred mounted his broom and kicked off, blood singing as he raced towards the bright light before him. The all too familiar sights and smells of the stadium greeted him as he flew out, performing a single circuit around the grand stands. All around him, he as quite pleased to see the familiar flash of blue and silver in the stands, signaling that many of Spades’ supporters were here on this great day. Laughing, Alfred waved to the crowd as he dove for the ground, coming to a stop only when he neared the center of the stadium and dismounting, walking across to meet Ivan and the match’s referee, Caretaker Matthew Williams, in the center.

“Kings, shake hands,” Matthew ordered quietly, taking a step back to allow the Kings forward. 

“It is a good day, no?” Ivan asked as he took Alfred’s hand in the enormous bear paw he called a hand and gave it a gentle, yet firm shake. “Sun shining, birds singing, and Spades going down.” 

Alfred scowled up at the taller man. “Just you wait, Ivan. Spades is taking the cup this year, and you’ll be the one scrubbing the bathroom floors this year!” 

Ivan’s smile only widened at that. “You are honorable opponent, Jones. I am looking forward to our match!” 

In spite of himself, Alfred grinned and nodded, signaling that he felt the same. Then, he mounted his broom and once again took off, hovering near the goalposts. This was it. Make it or break it. If everyone played their A-game today, then there was no way that they would lose the cup!

“Bludgers are out!” Antonio said into the microphone. “The Snitch is released!” out in the center of the field, Matthew picked up the last ball: the Quaffle. Already, the six Chasers were inching even closer towards the center, ready to leap in and grab the ball at a moment’s notice. For a moment, time stopped, and every single eye on the field (save Yao’s and Roderich’s) was on Matthew, watching as he slowly, slowly, slowly lifted his arm, preparing to release the Quaffle. Then, the large ball left his hand and sailed into the air, black against the light of the sun.

“The match has begun!” Antonio shouted, just as the Chasers swooped in, creating a storm of green and blue. Once it cleared, a blue blur shot forth from the blob, heading straight towards Natalya’s goalposts. With a small squeal of glee, Alfred realized that it was Arthur carrying the Quaffle at the moment, with Diogo and Lukas hot on his heels. 

Arthur sat lightly on his broom, green eyes narrowed in concentration as he moved towards his goal. Not too far away, Elizaveta pulled out her frying pan - yes, frying pan - and whacked a bludger Arthur’s way, only to have Sadik intercept it and hit it towards a Clubs Chaser instead. This gave Arthur the opening he needed to swoop in and throw the Quaffle through the first hoop, just barely dodging Natalya as she dove to intercept. 

“Queen Arthur scores! Ten points to Spades!” 

Toris had the Quaffle now and was speeding towards Alfred’s goalposts, determination written all over the Lithuanian’s face. Alfred grinned as he saw the other’s approach and prepared himself, fingers twitching eagerly as he anticipated which loop Toris would go for. Of course, Carlos was right on Toris’ heels as well, and once well-placed bludger later, Toris was spinning away, the Quaffle dropping from his limp fingers and into Lukas’, who immediately sped towards the other side of the field. But waiting for the Norwegian was not a team, but Ivan, who had sent off Elizaveta to deal with Arthur and Diogo while he chased down Lukas. 

Lukas was a skilled flier, and it became all too obvious that he was one as he weaved in between numerous Clubs Chasers and bludgers, expertly passing the Quaffle to Arthur, Diogo, Arthur, Diogo. Alfred had chosen well when he allowed the Norwegian onto his team, and nothing could have been more obvious when, once again, Natalya made a dive to block the Quaffle, but a clever and lightning quick pass from Lukas to Diogo, then back to Lukas allowed it to sail through.

“Lukas scores! Ten points to Spades!” 

The match continued in that same fashion, with Spades’ Chasers working as a beautiful, seamless tam while Clubs’ Chasers quickly passed the Quaffle between them. Alfred, for his part, truly earned his Keeper stripes that day, as he made save after save, some by only the tips of his gloves. The Beaters played fantastically as well, at one point passing a bludger between each other to knock Ivan right off of his broom, so that the Russian wouldn’t be able to unseat Arthur. 

But in the end, it all came down to a tie of 80-80, with Yao and Roderich nowhere to be seen. Wherever they were, they were both obviously chasing after the Snitch, and whomever caught it would end and win the game. The two Jacks and Seekers had last been seen streaking up towards the sky like a pair of shooting stars, and since then had vanished behind the clouds. In this lull in the match, Alfred looked up, watching with bated breath as a black speck appeared on the horizon, but whether or not this speck was clad in the blue and silver of Spades, he did not know.

This speck was too big to simply be one man. Alfred squinted as he shielded his eyes with his hand and examined it further. No, this was definitely too big of a speck. In fact, it really seemed like-

“Jacks Yao and Roderich are neck-in-neck, and it looks like they've spotted the Snitch!” Antonio shouted, causing the crowd to roar. For a brief moment, the Chasers and Beaters paused in their game to look and watch. Roderich and Yao were indeed neck-in-neck, the two doing their best to shove the other out of the way so that he wouldn’t get in the way of the Snitch. As the whole world watched them, Roderich suddenly gave Yao a particularly hard shove, sending both him and the Chinese man forward. They reeled and tumbled the tiny speck of gold disappearing as they neared the stadium, sending them both towards the ground.

“ _Arresto momentum!_ ” Matthew shouted, pulling out his wand and stopping the two just in time. Yao and Roderich, eyes wide, chests heaving, slowly floated until they both sat on the ground, obviously trying to collect themselves. But before either of them could so much as move towards their fallen brooms, Yao suddenly let out an ear-splitting shriek, and began beating at his shirt. 

“Get it out! Get it out! It is stick and rubbing up against things that do not need to be rubbed!” 

For a moment, the entire stadium was quiet, watching in disbelief as Yao shouted strange verses in Chinese, then plunged a hand down his shirt and yanked out whatever was bothering him. As he opened his hand, the entire stadium seemed to suddenly become filled with an all too familiar flash of gold.

“SPADES WINS THE QUIDDITCH HOUSE CUP!” 

The roar was tremendous, with an outpouring of thunderous applause, the very earth trembling as numerous spectators invaded the field. Yao, for his part, stood there dazed and a little bit shocked as Roderich clapped him on the back, and the team surrounded him, lifting him up and chanting his name. Alfred, too, wished to join them, but before he could so much as open his mouth to congratulate Yao, he was suddenly engulfed in a warm, gentle hug, the sort of hug you would want to stay in forever.

“We _won_ ,” Arthur whispered, burying his face into Alfred’s back. “My God, Alfred… we’ve _won_. Spades has _won_ …” 

Without thinking, in front of everything there, with wind singing in his veins and emeralds twinkling in his vision, Alfred turned around and kissed him.

* * *

“Where are you going to go from here?” seventeen-year-old Alfred asked as he walked up to the cliff upon which World Academy castle sat. Next to him, Arthur shrugged, cheeks dusted a beautiful light red from the thrill of the day, eyes shining emerald in the light of the setting sun.

At this moment, Alfred had never felt more in love with him.

“Dunno. I suppose I’ll try to see if I can find work somewhere as a Charms teacher for underprivileged wizards and witches, or perhaps I’ll write a book or two,” Arthur replied, turning to smile at Alfred. “Regardless, I hope that you’ll stay with me.” 

Jack Feliciano flew out first, one hand on his broom, the other carrying the Banner of Hearts. Queen Kiku and King Ludwig followed soon after, wands above their heads, painting the skies in red and bronze. They flew around the castle, performing a single loop, before landing and accepting their diplomas, allowing the next group, Clubs, to step forth.

“I ain’t leavin’ you, Arthur,” Alfred smiled as he reached out and squeezed Arthur’s hand, careful not to squeeze too hard, else he’d cause the silvery ring on Arthur’s finger, a twin to Alfred’s own, to bite into the skin. “Not now, not ever.”

Jack Roderich took up the Staff of Clubs and held it aloft as he led the Clubs. Queen Elizaveta’s green and King Ivan’s chrome joined with the red and bronze. 

“I’d never expect anything less of you,” Arthur murmured, raising Alfred’s hand to press a kiss to its back. “It’s funny, really, how far we’ve gone from our first year… that first meeting on the train.”

Jack Vash held the Chalice of Diamonds aloft as he flew, not even touching either of his hands to his broom as he did so. Queen Lilli and King Francis followed him soon after, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Alfred murmured, touching their foreheads together. “I love you, Arthur. You’ll always be my Queen.”

Yao flew ahead of them, Pocket Watch of Spades held high, the silvery chain seeming to glow with a beautiful whorl of many colored lights as he passed beneath the rainbow of color already created. As soon as he was a good enough distance away, Alfred and Arthur pulled out their own wands, and they too took flight, adding silver and blue to mingle in beautifully with the lovely aurora already formed.

“And you’ll always be my King.” 


End file.
